A Place to Hide

When I was a child, I discovered a secret space. Under the kitchen cabinets, back and to the left, was a roomy little area with no doors. Useless for storage, unnoticed by my parents, I quietly claimed it as my own.

When the yelling and the cruel names got to be too much, I would retreat there, far away from the searing spotlights of rage. With a book and a flashlight, I could stay there for hours.

Eventually they would find my nest and there would be hell to pay, but until then, I could be invisible and safe there.